Page 46 of A Life Chosen

“Saved by incompetence,” Mathias muttered bitterly.

“Is the kid looking forward to the big move?”

“What?”

“Nadeau,” Tony drawled. “Kid like that probably never been out of the city.”

Mathias exhaled a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I’m not taking him with me.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “You of all people should know how hard it is to find good help. You’re gonna go through the trouble of training another monkey?”

“I need him here. I need both of you to have your ears open.” Mathias thought of the list. Tony’s name. He decided against mentioning it. “Piero’s gone quiet now, but it’s only a matter of time. As soon as succession is on the table, he’ll strike.”

“If he tries anything—”

“He already has,” Mathias said, tapping his ash. “And look what happened. You hear anything, I want to hear it.”

His boss nodded slowly. They sat, smoking in silence. Tony was thinking in black and white. Loyalty and treason. When the lines were drawn through the family, alliances would not be so clear.

“Can’t say I’m not pleased Nadeau is staying. I need the manpower. And the offer still stands—I think he’s up to running his own team.”

“No,” Mathias said, surprised at his own vehemence. “Nothing too visible. You make him a captain, there’ll be talk. We don’t need the attention. Assign him to one of the old hands, and get him to do the heavy lifting.”

“Don’t know how happy the kid’s gonna be when he finds out you got him demoted.”

Mathias waved him off. “He’s a fucking grunt. He’ll do as he’s told.”

“I’d watch it, Mathias,” Tony warned, wagging a finger. “You jerk him around too much, and he ain’t gonna stay loyal for long.”

Mathias tapped his left hand agitatedly against the desk. The old man didn’t know shit.

“By the way, one of Belkov’s men dropped this off earlier,” Tony said, hauling a plastic bag of cash onto his desk. “Enough to cover the month up until now. Wonder who twisted his arm.” He glowered at him.

Mathias shrugged. “Maybe he was feeling generous.”

Tony thumbed the butt of his cigarette. “I told you not to see him.”

“Fuck, Tony. You’ve got your money, so stop bitching.”

“You wait and see how you get on managing your own territory,” the Collections head scoffed. “Though the bar is set pretty low. If you were to somehow make money instead of losing it, you’d be doing well. Better than Moretti, at least.”

“On that,” Mathias began, treading cautiously. “How do I get the Reapers clearance for one shipment a month?”

“What? Into Montreal?”

He nodded.

Tony laughed, shaking his head. “No bueno.They’re in direct competition with Narcotics.”

“They’re here already—got their own supply line. Only they’re bringing it overland.”

“You give them port access, and they’ll bring in three times as much and flood the market.”

“On our terms,” Mathias said. “We skim a cut for every kilo. I know our supply can be patchy, especially when the Feds south of the border get jumpy. We’d ride this during the lulls, still make money, and lower our risk at the same time.”

Tony squinted in suspicion. “What are you up to, Mathias?”

“There’s money to be made in Hamilton—more than you think.” After dismissing Moretti, Mathias had gone on his own tour of the city, familiarizing himself with the lay of the land. “The port might as well be unregulated—offers short sea shipping between the two cities. We can push product into Ontario, widen our scope. But Truman holds all the keys. And we have no clout out there. I need something to bargain with.”

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